cupid

Today, the only string she was tugging was the drawstring of her oversized, canary-yellow beach towel.She’d earned this. She’d watched a stubborn accountant in Oslo finally smile at a barista. She’d nudge two lonely knights in a medieval reenactment camp into sharing a thermos of questionable tea. She’d orchestrated a meet-cute involving a dropped gelato and a shared umbrella in a sudden Milan downpour. The world was, for the moment, humming along in a satisfactory state of coupledom. The great engine of love had been oiled, and its gears were turning smooth.A sigh of pure, unadulterated relief escaped her. This was her version of a sales conference in the Bahamas. No arrows. No whining. No tragic backstories. Just sun, sound, and sand between her divine toes.That’s when she saw you.You were walking a few feet from the water’s edge, your head down, scanning the damp sand. Maybe for shells, maybe for lost thoughts. You were wearing simple, faded swim trunks and had a streak of sand on one shoulder. You looked… present. Unplugged. Peacefully alone in a way that was rare in her always-connected world.